


FeudalWatch

by SheegothBait



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, High Fantasy, Magic, Medieval AU, More tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheegothBait/pseuds/SheegothBait
Summary: Overwatch characters enter a land of swords and sorcery in this AU.Sir Gabriel Reyes has fallen ill with a strange disease that he's determined to cure at any cost. But the lines between good and evil start to blur when he seeks help from a mysterious healer and learns a dangerous secret about himself that could drive him away from the only world he knows. Not everything is as black-and-white as it seems, he quickly finds, and he must question what he thought was so certain to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah, my friend. How was your journey?”

“Long.” Gabriel knelt before Morrison. “I bear ill news.”

His lord placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need not kneel to me, Gabriel. We are nearly brothers. Come, tell me of this news.”

Gabriel stood up, feeling the weight of his armor dragging at him. How he longed to shed it, to cast off his sword, to fill his belly on something other than game and to rest on a bed that was not the hard ground. But he had much to tell before then.

“So what manner of mischief have you been getting up to?”

“None, my lord. The journey was uneventful.” He followed after Morrison, pushing the door aside. His armor’s clanking echoed down the vaulted stone hall.

“You managed to see the Sisters of Divine Fire?”

“Yes. The high priestess…you would have liked her.”

Morrison chuckled. “Oh? She was pretty, then?”

“As beautiful as an angel, and dressed like one too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But what of your own experience?”

“I experienced two episodes during my stay there. They did their best to comfort me, but they could not tell me what was wrong, even with the high priestess’ help.”

Morrison’s handsome face fell. “I am sorry to hear that. That the Sister’s healing skills have failed you is a worrisome sign indeed. But-“ he glanced around, then turned back to Reyes and lowered his voice,“-I may know of another solution.”

Reyes looked at his lord and friend skeptically. The Sisters of Divine Fire were known for their healing prowess, and he wasn’t sure whether or not this “alternative” could match them.

They stopped at Morrison’s chambers, and Morrison beckoned him inside, shutting the heavy door with a soft _boom_. A fire crackled on the hearth, sending light dancing along the polished collection of blades adorning the walls, but other than that, there was little ornamentation in the room, little to show off Morrison’s power and wealth. Reyes liked that about his lord; he did not flaunt his treasury by ornamenting himself with beautiful clothing, ornate weapons, or jewelry. His style was always simple and practical, his focus on the people he ruled, not his own comfort. He remained a staunch advocate for helping others. Reyes would trust the man with his life and die defending him.

Yet he wasn’t sure whether to believe what Morrison had just said.

The lord sat with a swirl of his silver-trimmed blue cloak, his only concession to ornamentation, and looked up at Reyes, his blue eyes serious, the firelight casting harsh shadows over his face.

“I need you to keep what I am about to share between us. If the village gets word I shared this with you, they may think ill of me.”

Reyes’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, my lord?”

“Just give me your word.”

Gabriel sighed. “I give you my word. Now what mischief have you been up to?”

Lord Morrison looked up at him, clasping his hands in his lap. “There is a…healer… a few towns over. Sometimes merchants will pass through and spread the story of their healing with our townsfolk. A few of our very ill have gone to see this healer and been cured of any ailment they possessed.”

“Why have you not told me of this?” Reyes asked, his brow furrowing.

“Because a large majority of people think the healer’s magic stems from dark sources. You remember Gerrick?”

Reyes winced. How could he forget the old man with the mass that nearly consumed his face? The man had gone to see the Sisters, who pronounced there was nothing they could do, as they had with Reyes, and he’d disappeared in early autumn, only to come back sans hideous lump. He proclaimed it a miracle, but Reyes had heard the townsfolk claim witchcraft when Gerrick described his experience. The man had frozen to death in a blizzard during the following winter, having gotten lost on his way to the cowshed, which only strengthened the theory that dark magic was afoot.

“It’s unknown who this healer is, where the healer’s skills come from, or where exactly the healer is, but the magic this individual wields rivals that of the Sisters and may be your best chance for a cure.”

Reyes nodded grimly, mulling over this information. What was he supposed to do with it? Was this a test of some sort? Hadn’t he moved past tests years ago?

 “I leave this revelation to you, and I will be the last to judge you if you decide to make use of it. But as in all things, be wary, my friend. We do not know just what this sorcerer is capable of, and I would not want you spell-bound.” Morrison sighed and shifted. “Go. Rest and eat. The servants have prepared something for you, and your quarters are ready at your demand. I would have your answer in the morning. Think well about it.”

“Thank you, Mi’lord. Good night.” Reyes bowed to him and left. As Morrison had promised, a hot meal of bread, root vegetables, and a whole roast chicken sat on the table in the kitchens, waiting for him, still steaming temptingly. He tore into the food and downed the ale, savoring the tender meat and rich flavors of farm-raised produce. It wasn’t until after he’d finished the meal, retired to his room, and began to clean his armor that his mind turned towards the pressing matter of the mysterious healer.

_Should he stay?_ This person, whoever, _whatever,_ they were, sounded dangerous. If they were so powerful, yet not part of The Sisters or another group of healers, then they definitely could be sourcing their magic from dark or unsavory places, banned as dark magic was from these groups. _Necromancy. Death-words. Blood-thralls._ Dark magic was something few magicians dabbled in; it was powerful beyond belief, but also corrupting, and some even said it opened the gateway to demonic possession. Only the truly power-obsessed played with such dangerous forces.

_Should he go?_ He was dying; by some curse or madness or undocumented illness he knew not. But the episodic fury and pain and lost time came more and more frequently. Even Lord Morrison said he wasn’t his usual self, and he usually counted on his master to discipline carefully and only where needed. The Sisters of Divine Fire had not been able to help; what choice did he have left if he wanted to survive?

He sighed and stared at his own fuzzy, warped reflection in the curve of his bracer, wiping a rag over its surface one final time before putting it aside. He could finish cleaning it later. He snuffed the candles dotted about his chamber, threw himself onto the bed, and tried to find sleep. The moon rose, casting its wan light across the ceiling, then faded as it spun in the sky. And still he could not find rest, turning the decision over and over and over in his head.

***************************

 

 


	2. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Reyes meets a band of misfits and receives a strange warning.  
> *************

            He rose with the sun the next morning, donned his gambeson, and found Lord Morrison seated and eating already in the great hall.

            “Sir Reyes, come join me.” Morrison gestured to the sprawl of food; bread and cheese and chicken, with beer for himself and wine for his master. He sat and began to eat, his mouth watering at the smell of the food. Lord Morrison finished his plate and sat sipping his wine, studying Gabriel intently.

            “Will you take your leave and seek the healer?” He asked finally.

            Gabriel looked up. “I see no other option, my lord. Summer is fading, as is my time. Should I deliberate long on this, winter will overtake us, and we will be snowbound. Travel to other parts of the region is too difficult and dangerous in the winter, and I’m not certain I will last until spring with my condition.”

            “Do as you must, my friend. I will stand with you, whatever your decision.” He smiled. “But I’m sure you’ll meet a fine young lass or two on your journey, maybe drink a tavern dry.”

            Reyes choked on his mug. “You can’t possibly think I drink that much,” he sputtered, wiping beer from his beard.

            Morrison let out a bark of laughter, tossing his golden hair back in mirth. “I’ve seen you drink, Gabriel. If a bull drank mead and not water, you’d guzzle its share and still come back for more.”

            Reyes shrugged. “Only if they have good beer.”

            Morrison chuckled. “Fair enough.” He finished his wine at one long draft, then stood up. “Go gather your things. The sun is rising and the day is already upon us. I will have one of my servants get a horse ready for you.”

            Gabriel returned to his room and began to don his armor, staring out at the treeline beyond the sparkling dew-damp grass and pondering the journey ahead. Who was this healer? How was he supposed to find this person, and could their magic really save him?

            He buckled his sword onto his belt and met his master in the courtyard, where a horse loaded with supplies waited for him.

            “If I may be so bold, my lord, how might I find this healer?” Gabriel asked, climbing onto the horse’s back with some difficulty, his armor clanking. The animal snorted, as though in protest of his weight.

            A frown creased Morrison’s handsome face. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask someone else. But I can give you this; the individual you are searching for also goes by ‘The Exile’.”

            Gabriel frowned. “ ‘The Exile’? From what, and why?”

            Morrison shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you. Journey east and let other townsfolk know who you’re searching for. They’ll be able to point the way better than I will, and perhaps you’ll be able to figure out who this healer really is.” He stepped back. Gabriel gave a tug at the reins, prompting the horse to turn, pointing its nose towards the rising sun.

            “Godspeed, Gabriel. And good luck.”

            “Thank you, John. I will return as soon as I can.” He prodded the horse lightly with his spurs, and the animal broke into a trot, quickly carrying him into the woods and obscuring Morrison’s stronghold.

            *************************

            Dappled afternoon light filtered through the trees as he wiped his brow yet again, then clambered off his horse and knelt at the water’s edge, scooping up a hornful of clear, fresh water. He leaned back against a nearby tree, watched his horse graze by the side of the churned-up road, and drank, considering the mostly-uneventful but still worrying past few days.  He’d met a few other people traveling on the road, mostly in the opposite direction, presumably to pick up supplies in another, more westerly town before winter arrived early, as it did in the eastern, more mountainous regions. They hadn’t said much to him when he’d asked about the exiled healer; most of them just looked at him with fear when he asked and hurried on their way, but one individual, a lanky farmer, had mumbled a response affirming he was going in the right direction.

            Other than that, however, it was just himself, the horse, and the increasing vertigo and headaches that heralded an oncoming attack.

            He finished the water and knelt down again to get another hornful, the aforementioned headache bloating with every second he stayed bent over. He straightened as quickly as he could. Someone else had given him a tip yesterday that a town was about a day’s journey east; if he made it there and found lodging, then he’d be safe from bandits or thieves while he had his attack. But, if the way he felt was anything to go by, he had to hurry. He got to his feet and leaned against a tree, willing a sudden, severe dizziness away. After a long moment, it passed, and he made his way back to his charger, tying the water horn securely to the saddle. He grasped the saddle and pulled himself up to swing his leg over when the vertigo returned more fiercely than ever. His balance buckled, sending him crashing to the earth, but he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

***********************************

            He groaned and shifted as he came to, feeling every minute ache and pain that throbbed along his body, as though he’d landed on a bed of stones.

            “Hey! He’s up!” An accented voice called. The speaker’s pitch drove into his brain like a molten spike, and he winced, reaching for his head and opening his eyes. Something gleamed inches from his nose, and it took him a few seconds to realize he was staring down the point of an arrow. He shifted, sweat pricking his brow, trying to peer past the hooded shadows of the archer’s cloak and into the person’s face. The faded light of evening made it difficult to distinguish the man’s features. _How long had he been unconscious?_

“Don’t be like that, James. He took a tumble and bonked his head; he’s probably not feeling too well.”

            A much shorter, slighter individual bobbed at the archer’s elbow, pushing the arrow away from his face. The archer lowered his bow and tucked the arrow back into his quiver, still scowling, as the smaller figure approached, pulling a horn of water from inside their cloak They swept back the hood of their cloak to reveal a fine-boned face and two jewel-bright eyes perched above a smile that seemed carved into their face. _Her_ face, he realized, as she smoothed her unusually short hair that did nothing to hide her pointed ears.

            “Hi there. Sorry about all the drama. You doing all right?”

            He accepted a drink of water. Behind the archer lingered an armored giant of a man wielding an immense warhammer in one hand and holding the reins of Gabriel’s horse in the other. An ornate tower shield rested across his back, his face hidden by a helm so thick it looked like it could deflect crossbow quarrels.

            “How long was I out?”

            The halfling shrugged. “Beats me. Lucky we stumbled upon you first and not some other vagabond, eh?”

            His eyes still lingered on the giant, and the halfling glanced back at the man-mountain. She grinned. “Oh, don’t mind him. He just looks scary. That’s Reinhardt, by the way, and James’s the archer, and I’m Lena. Pleased to meet ya.”

            She stuck out a hand, and he carefully took it and shook it.

            “Sir Reyes. How’d you find me?” He asked, handing the drinking horn back.

            She sprang to her feet. “Luck, really. We was doing our usual patrol when we ran across you lyin’ there like you was dead. Your horse was standing nearby, grazing. You’re lucky he didn’t wander off too far.” She crossed to the animal and rubbed its nose. “What’s his name, by the way?”

            “Don’t know. He’s on loan from Lord Morrison to me.”

            “Can I name him then?”

            Gabriel shrugged. “Be my guest.” He clambered to his feet in a jangle of armor and glanced to the waning rays of the sun. “I was hoping to get to the nearby town tonight.”

            “You won’t make it by nightfall, not without being accosted by bandits. This part of the woods is thick with them. Easy pickings, since the town’s nearby, but far enough away the guards can’t hear you calling for help.” James said darkly.

            “Then I need to get moving.” He held out a hand for his horse.

            “You won’t make it,” James repeated.

            “Then invite him to make camp with us, James. Quit being melodramatic,” Lena scolded.

            James turned to Gabriel, lancing him with a glare, and he noticed that his sword hung off the archer’s hip. “No offense, but I don’t trust you.”

            “You’ve got my sword and two armed companions. What am I going to do against that?” Gabriel snapped back at him. “Besides, I have my own food. You won’t have to feed me.”

            The man’s expression soured. “Fine. But I’m keeping your sword until you leave tomorrow.” He walked away and swung himself onto his horse. “Follow me, but no funny business.”

            ****************

            James watched the stranger walk away from the campfire, his armor glimmering in the reflection of the dying embers. He was probably just going to retrieve his bedroll, but James’ thoughts drifted to the youngest, most careless member of their group, who was still out alone, petting the stranger’s horse, who she seemed quite taken with. Gods, he worried about her; she didn’t seem to have a care in the world (or, quite frankly, a clue), because she’d sat there, chatting with Reyes all supper and eagerly absorbing whatever he told her about his lord, his keep, and his town like he was incapable of telling lies.

            He straightened and slipped into the shadows, following the knight to where the animals were grazing and quickly climbing a tree so he could listen in. Reyes stopped a good distance from Lena and coughed, making his presence known. Lena turned.

            “Oh, hello. What you doing out here?”

            “Just getting my blanket.” He approached the horse and tugged a dark roll of cloth from its fastenings. “Have you figured out a name for my horse yet?”

            “Streya.”

            “Interesting. Why that?”

            “I heard that it means ‘star’ in some language. Can’t remember which. And she’s got a star on her nose.” Lena put a hand to the horse’s aforementioned star. “Did you know it’s lucky?”

            “Heh, is it? Never really put much faith in good-luck charms.” He sighed and glanced at the sky. “Maybe it’s time to, though.”

            “Can I show you something?” Even in the dark, James could make out Lena’s mischievous smile.

            Reyes tucked the blanket under one arm. “I suppose.”

            “Well if you face northeast…Go on, try it.”

            The knight shuffled a little bit in place, turning. She stepped next to him.

            “Right, now raise your arm and point.”

            She adjusted his position, turning him a little bit more, raising his arm, then let go.

            “There. Now, if you were in a big open field, you’d be able to see a four-leaf clover in the stars, and you’ll always be able to find good luck. Not here though; too many bloody trees. I prefer open skies myself.”

            “Maybe you and your friends should come visit sometime. Plenty of open space to see stars.”

            “I’d like that.” She threw him another smile. “Just to be clear, though, you’re not really my type. No offense. But I would like to visit some time. Your town sounds small, but nice. ”

            He stared after her as she skipped back towards the fire. James watched, letting him stew in confusion for a few moments before dropping from the tree and making his way up the moraine.

            “Reyes.”

            The knight turned. “James.”

            “Lena taught you her good-luck trick?”

            “Yeah. To be honest I might need it.”

            “What for?”

            “If you have to know, I’ve taken ill, and I’m out here to try to find a healer. I wouldn’t ordinarily travel alone.” He sighed.

            James rolled the information in his head. “That’s why you were unconscious on the side of the road,” he surmised.

            “Yes. I’ve been having fits, and the Sisters can’t figure out what’s wrong. So this is my last hope.”

            “And you are searching for the healer that lives in Bren.”

            Reyes started. “You know them?”

            “I know her, yes. She…helped Lena when Lena was ill.” James responded carefully. If the man knew the truth, Lena could possibly be endangered…

            “Will you tell me where she is or how to find her?”

            “I know only the name she goes by and her approximate location. The locals call her Lady Moon; apparently she’s rather taken with moonlit walks, and they recommend trying to find her at night. It’s how we found her when Lena was ill. Ask around at a tavern. Someone will be able to point the way.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Fair warning, though; she can be quite strange. She has an immense curiosity for other peoples’ names, though Lena had no idea why she would ask about such a thing. I would be careful how much information you give her about yourself, though. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her, but...” he grimaced, “needs must. I can speak for her skill, no matter how I feel, however.”

            “I appreciate the warning,” Reyes said, sounding serious.

            “Good luck to you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He looked up at the small holes in the canopy, where stars peeked through. “I’m exhausted. Good night.”


	3. Facts and Fables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes finds out more about this mysterious healer and must make a decision.   
> **************************

Reyes departed the trio’s camp the next morning, the comfortable weight of his sword tucked by his side once more, Lena’s cheerful farewell ringing through his mind. He liked the mismatched company; James was gruff but helpful and there wasn’t any way he could _dislike_ Lena. He hadn’t gotten to know Reinhardt very well, but the older man’s hard, quiet exterior hid a humorous side, his comments both amusing and charged with a steadfast sense of honor. He frowned slightly.  He’d guide them in the direction of Morrison’s keep, but he had business to attend to, and James had mentioned that Lady Moon did not like large groups of people showing up at her door. And whoever this healer witch-lady was, he did not want to anger her.

            The smell of smoke thickened on the air as he rode onward, the forests giving way to meadows, the road becoming roughened and churned-up, old hoofprints baked into the drying mud of the widening path. The dirt smoothed as he got closer, pounded flat by the many travelers that had passed through and embedded with rough stones worn flat by tramping feet and wagon wheels. A hill rose above the town, its bare top studded with strange protrusions that almost looked man-made. Buildings clustered like mushrooms as he rode into the heart of the town, the winding cobble streets lined with carts and animal feed. Smoke lay thick upon the air, curling from outdoor fires, carrying the smell of meat and the even peal of a blacksmith’s hammer. He winced in sympathy as he passed the building, the fire shining brightly in the fading light, where a man wearing singed clothing slaved over an anvil, the sweat running off his face and body. The man looked up as Reyes paused.

            “Hail, stranger,” the smith called.

            “Hail smithy,” Reyes greeted in kind.

            “If you’re seeking a place to rest,  there’s an inn, the Green Dragon, further up the road. Shouldn’t be hard to find. This isn’t a big town.”

            “Thank you. But I’m not looking for a place to sleep. I seek a healer; she goes by the name Lady Moon. Could you help me find her?”

            The man’s face went oddly blank. “I’ve never met her,” he said, suddenly stiff. He picked up his project and placed it back among the embers.

            “I was told she resided here, or close by. Any clue would be helpful.”        

            The smithy worked the bellows, and a wave of heat rippled from the small, bright fire. “I’ve heard the rumors as well. I would advise against seeking her. There are stories of a water demon shaped like a horse that roams the nearby river where she has been spotted. Men go missing and do not return.”

            Reyes started, taken aback. “And none have managed to kill it?”

            “No. The elusive beast only shows itself at night, and it moves like quicksilver. If you do seek the sorceress who lives in those woods, use caution.”

            Reyes tucked a hand into his money bag and tossed the man a small coin. “For your troubles. Thank you.”

            “Good luck, stranger.”

            Reyes gently spurred Streya onward, pondering the smithy’s words. Perhaps the animal the man had described was just a loose horse. Men went missing frequently during travels in the woods, and usually their disappearances were attributed to demons only by superstitious townspeople who wanted to blame their misfortune on supernatural entities. Reyes knew the truth; more often, the missing wandered off the path and animals or bandits or illness or bad weather took them. He’d stumbled on enough half-buried bodies during his travels to know.

            He passed a tanner and several merchants hawking their wares; rough-hewn furniture, clothing and blankets, candles and soap and furs. He spotted the inn before the hucksters’ voices faded from earshot; a large, snarling green dragon stood on its hind legs outside, a hitching-post ring held between its teeth. A small stable squatted behind the inn, its minder seated on a stool outside, glowering at the passersby and taking the occasional swig from the bottle he held.

            “Y’lookin to rent a room?” he asked in a slurred voice, staring up at Reyes.

            “Just passing through.”

            “Hmph. Thought so.” He eyed Reyes. “Don’t get many of your type round here. At least not anymore.” He took another drink. Reyes wondered whether the bottle was the man’s first or fifth and how strong the drink was.

            “What do you mean by that?”

            “Been weird things happenin’. Folks like you go into the woods and _whoosh_ ,” he waved a hand, “just gone.”

            “You think someone’s killing off the knights?”

            “Don’t think so. _Know_ so.” He pointed an accusational finger at Reyes. “’S those damn ruins. Keep telling people they’re possessed by demons, but they send people like you out to fight the things in the ruins anyway. Them woods are evil.”

            “ Others say it’s the witch who lives there,” Reyes mentioned, watching the man’s reaction.

            The stablehand shook his head vehemently. “No. M’cousin went out to her and he came back. It’s somethin’ about those old ruins. Bad news. I wouldn’t go there ‘f I were you. ‘Specially bein’ what you are.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Unless ya have no other option, in which case good luck, but I don’t expect to see you come back.”

            “I appreciate the warning.”

            “Feel like y’should know. ‘S two coppers to stable your horse overnight.”

            Reyes passed the man the money and dismounted. “Take good care of her. She’s on loan.”

            “Will do.”

            Reyes gave a nod to the man and went into the inn. It was still early enough in the day that the patrons were eating supper, which meant the tavern was fuller and more boisterous than normal. Pipe smoke hung over the patrons like morning fog, and a pair of husband-and-wife fiddlers sat in the corner, playing something with a catchy, fast tempo. A peal of laughter sounded above the babble, then faded. He approached the tavern owner, who was minding the bar.

            “Evening. What can I do for you?” The man put down the mug he was cleaning

            “I’m looking for information, though I won’t say no to a good meal and a pint of amber.”

            “Got lamb hock at five coppers a plate and pork at three. What do you want?”

            “Just pork, thanks.” He tossed the proper payment onto the bar.

            The man squinted at him as he swept the money into the wide pocket on his apron and turned to get his beer. “Don’t get many of your type around here anymore. Innit a bit strange for you to come knocking around here?”  

            “That’s what I heard from your stablehand. Can you tell me anything more about what’s going on? I’ve heard a number of rumors, but I’m not sure what to believe. I’ll throw in an extra copper for any help you might be able to give me.”

            The bartender waved a hand, sliding the beer across the table at him. “Keep your money. If you’re desperate enough to offer, then you must really need help. I’ll be back with your food.”

            The man disappeared, and Reyes sipped at his beer, watching  a group of men and women laughing at the animated version of some story one of their group was telling. A few people glanced over him  as he looked around, but they quickly went back to their beers, with the exception of a scarred, stocky man with whitening hair, mustache and braided beard hair sitting in a nearby shadowed corner. The man nodded at him once, raised his tankard, then turned back to the music.

            “Here y’are. Now what is it you want to know?”

            The innkeeper slid  plate piled with steaming pork and potatoes across the bar.

            “About the witch who lives nearby and the haunted ruins. I need to go see her, but I’m having second thoughts,” Reyes explained.

            The man frowned. “I can see how that’d be a concern to you. And yes, there are a lot of stories about those ruins. I don’t know if they’re haunted or not. I don’t believe much of the stories that have been made up about the place, however interesting they might be.” He picked up a mug and began cleaning it. “The ruins have been there much longer than this place has. No one remembers how they got there or why. Like I said, we have a lot of stories about ‘em. A large portion of them are rubbish, just ghost stories for those looking to scare the gullible.”

            Reyes swallowed his sizeable mouthful of slightly-dry meat. “And the ones that are real?”

            “I don’t know if any of the stories _are_ true, but I have seen a horse-creature running wild around the ruins. Couldn’t get close enough to get a good look. Could just be a loose or wild animal. Fast as lightning though. Lot of people only see it at dusk or nighttime.” The mug clanked softly on the counter as the barkeeper put it down. “Now your witch, on the other hand, I know plenty about.” A grin momentarily split his auburn bush of a beard. “She lives up near the ruins. No one’s exactly sure where; even those who go to see her have no memory of the place. We think her home is warded against people finding it, except by her guidance. Not everyone is as fond of her as those who are healed by her, so I can’t exactly blame her for that.”

            “But she does heal people,” Reyes commented.

            The man snorted. “Of course! Ask around in this pub and you’ll find at least four people who have stories of her healings. I don’t know what sort of price she charges, but the sick go to her and they return as healthy as an ox. I don’t know how she does it, but if you’re ill, she can fix you.”

            Reyes thought over this. “You think it’s worth it?”

            “The stories are just stories. Don’t let them scare you too much.”

            “How do I find her?”

            “It’s a full moon tonight, or damn close to it. She’ll be out and about. Go to the base of the hill and wait. A certain kind of flower grows and blooms on the northeast side during full moons, and she’ll be out picking it, which if you want to find her is a pretty good way to do so.”

            Reyes glanced out the window. The daylight had just about faded, the fires more pronounced against the darkness.

            “I should probably go, then.”

            “You probably should. Don’t want to be traveling too far in the dark.”

             “Thank you. I’ll return for another beer. Good stuff.”

            The innkeeper smiled. “Good luck. I’ll hold you to that.”

            He wandered off to check on his storage or get an ale, leaving Reyes to finish his food. He downed the rest of his beer with a satisfied sigh, stood, and made for the door.

            A hand caught his shoulder, making him jump. The white-haired man stood behind him, making up for his diminutive height with his prolific scars.

            “Ye’re going out ta see the witch, aren’t ya, laddie?” The man’s accent was so thick Reyes could have sworn  he could cut the man’s words with his sword.

            “You listened in on us, didn’t you?”

            “Ah did, but ah couldnnae help m’self. You were shoutin’ about it for the whole bar ta hear.”

            “Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t go?”

            “Nae, just be wary o’ the witch. She’s a crafty one. Dannae trust ‘er with anythin’ but what she needs. And _dannae,_ under any circumstances, give her your full name.”

            “Why?”

            “She asks anyone who goes to ‘er. Don’t know why. Never found out.” The man glared fiercely at him “Be careful. Too many knights ‘ave gone missin’ already.”

            With that, the man ambled back to his table and sat heavily again. Reyes stared after him, baffled. Why was _he_ so invested in Reyes’ visit to the witch, and why were half the people he’d met so far adamant about not giving the healer his full name? What was the connection there?

            He nursed his growing headache. _Too many beers?_ He wondered. But he’d only had one…His stomach sank as he put two and two together. No, it was his symptoms returning in force.

            He quickly collected his horse  from the confused stablehand and rode from town at a gallop, his headache bloating with each strike of Streya’s hooves against the ground, racing the gathering darkness.

**********************

            He slowed to a walk at the base of the hill. The woods was quiet with little wind,, the moon silhouetting the uneven shapes of the half-tumbled walls. Streya didn’t seem particularly bothered by the silence, grazing placidly among the tough grass and tall, tightly-closed-flower-covered stems of some broad-leaved plant. He strained his ears and heard nothing. No wolves, no wind, no birds. It was quiet, but a little eerie. _Good for listening for trouble,_ he supposed, patting his horse’s neck and trying to distract himself from the nagging pain in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to rest in the saddle a little while, but the nagging worry of the rumors jolted him awake at the slightest whisper of breeze. The moon moved higher in the sky, clearing the trees and shedding moonlight onto the clearing. He spotted the lucky clover Lena had taught him to look for. He was pretty sure good luck charms didn’t work, but he was willing to put his faith in luck this time as long as it had the slightest chance of helping him.

            He looked at the flowers around him and noticed a change. They definitely seemed more open and appeared, in fact, to be accelerating in their blooming now that they were bathed in moonlight. Transfixed, he watched them open, exposing deep purple, almost-black centers among the snow-white petals. He dismounted to get a closer look at the strange, beautiful blooms.

            “What’s this?”

            He whirled, drawing his sword. Laughter tugged at his ears; it came from a figure standing less than a stone’s throw away, carrying a basket on one arm and holding what seemed to be a ball of light that did little to illuminate whoever was under the cloak. He could barely see the bottom half of their face; pale skin, a jawline so sharp it might split wood, and a thin, wide mouth quirked in a smirk.

            “Put that away. You’ll wind up hurting someone.”

            _How had they snuck up on him?_ “Are you Lady Moon?” The husky voice didn’t exactly sound female, and he felt pretty sure the healer was a she…

            “I go by many names. Lady Moon is just one of them.” She moved to the nearest flower stalk, her footsteps soundless, and began to inspect the blooms. Her cloak shimmered eerily in the wan half-light, and Reyes wondered what kind of hide she wore. Not one he was familiar with…

 A knife appeared in her hand, and she severed one of the flowers with a neat stroke. Its milky sap covered her hands like ghostly blood. “What business do you have here?”

            He sheathed his sword. “I need your help.”

            “I suspected as much. What is it you want?”

            “Healing. I need healing.”

            She turned to him, and he spotted a glimmer of her eyes. “Oh? And you think I will heal you after your animal is finished eating my moon-lillies?”

            He grabbed Streya by the reins, and sure enough, she was chewing on one of the long stalks.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t know these were yours.”

            “I tend them and see to their needs, and in turn, they provide me with a powerful ingredient for my potions and spells.” She cut another flower and placed it tenderly in her basket. “I give them something, and they return the favor. Tell me, stranger, what do you bring in exchange?”

            “Whatever you need.”

            “ _Whatever_ I need?” She purred.

            “Within reason,” he amended. “I have journeyed far to find you, but I have limited funds and duties elsewhere.”

            “I’m sure we can figure something. I never turn down those who come to me in desperation.” She put her knife away and beckoned to him. “The path up the hill is too narrow to be on horseback. Come, let’s talk somewhere more pleasant.”

            “Show me.”

            “One more thing. By agreeing to this, you accept the fact I will treat you, and you therefore must be willing to follow my commands. If you fail to do so, then I will not force you to do as I ask, but your healing will not be complete. Should this happen, I will refuse to heal you a second time.  Do you understand?”

            He considered for a moment, aware of her watching him. “Yes,” he finally said.

            “Follow, then. And stay close.”


	4. Eucalyptus Tea

Reyes stepped into the sizeable log-and-mud hut, blinking around. The air was thick with the pleasant but slightly dizzying scent of the dried plant-and-flower garlands that hung in the rafters. A door at the back led somewhere, probably into another room, judging by the lack of windows in the wall. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, illuminating a bed piled high with blankets, a rough table holding a huge book and matching chair and stool, a wooden basin large enough for a man to sit in, and a collection of odd shelves. Crystals, clay bowls and pots, jars full of liquid, and bones of creatures he could not recognize lay scattered on the shelves in no apparent order, lending the hut a cluttered and slightly off-putting air. His gaze flickered over the book and its illustrations. He’d never seen such a large tome, and some of the writing on it was less recognizable letters and more strange glyphs of some forgotten or forbidden language.

            The door clicked quietly shut behind him, and he turned to see the witch standing behind him, the hood of her cloak lowered. Her skin looked just as pale as ever, but her orange hair caught the firelight and shimmered like flame. Had he not encountered Lena, he would have been doubly startled by her mannishly short haircut. Only her fine, sharp features betrayed her gender; he saw no hint of womanly curves beneath the witch’s robes. He could not tell the woman’s age, but the glitter of her eerily mismatched eyes bespoke a fiendish intelligence behind her mocking mannerisms.

            “So who do I have the pleasure of inviting into my home?”

            The various warnings about giving the witch his full name flashed through his mind. “Gabriel. My name is Gabriel.”

            “ _Gabriel._ ” His name rolled off her tongue in her deep, velvety accent. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Such a lovely name. Angelic, one might say.”

            “Uh…yeah,” he mumbled. “Can’t say I’m well-versed in angels.”

            “But you _have_ seen the Sisters of Divine Fire, who, rumor has it, was founded by an angel.”

            He started. “How did you know?”

            She smiled, not kindly. “Magic always leaves its mark. You simply have to know where and how to look for it.”

            “And what is your name?” He countered.

            Her smile curled into a smirk. “You may call me what you like, but I prefer to go by Moira.”

            “You live here alone?”

            “I do, but my time is filled with treating the ill and keeping an eye on my ingredient stock. I cannot make healing magic with my bare hands.”

            “But-“

            “Ordinary magic and healing magic are two very different things, the latter being far more complex. It must be shaped and channeled to specifically target the issue in another individual, which is far and away the more difficult task than shaping it yourself. The body, especially that of another being, is such a complicated thing, and there is so much that can go wrong.” She cocked her head. “Which is why you are here and not visiting the Sisters. I’ve spent my life trying to crack the code of the human body and how it reacts to magic, which makes me far better at curing you than the Sisters. Speaking of which, I would like to get started.”

            He swallowed, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Tell me what to do, then,” he said, aware of the tremor in his voice.

            She chuckled. “A little nervous, are we?”

            “Can you blame me?” He retorted.

            “No, I suppose not,” she mused, still smiling. “My first order is simple.” She pointed to the basin. “Bathe yourself, then sit in front of the fire and wait for me. I have preparations to make, and I will return shortly.”

            He nodded and watched her step through into the other room. He shucked off his armor with a sigh and dipped his finger into the water. To his surprise, it felt quite warm, and he wondered how she had managed to heat this much. If she was a witch whose powers were derived from the moon, she shouldn’t be able to manipulate heat and flame…should she?

            Watching the door warily, he stripped and stepped into the basin, then began the process of scrubbing the filth and sweat of days of travel from his skin. He wondered if Moira was taking care of his horse. She said the animal would be fine, but he wasn’t quite sure if he believed her. She definitely was one of the more unnerving people he’d met, and he didn’t think it a long stretch to believe she was lying to him.

            He shoved the thought out of his mind. He had to trust her. He didn’t think anyone else could help him, not if the Sisters had failed. He rubbed the back of his neck with the rough cloth he’d been left, taking off not only the dirt, but also what felt like several layers of skin. He was here now anyway. Might as well try to get some help from her.

            He stayed in the water until it began to cool, then climbed out, debating his filthy clothing for a long moment before wrapping one of the blankets around his middle and another around his shoulders. Wood creaked slightly as he lowered himself onto the stool in front of the fire. Late summer or not, the temperature dropped sharply at night, and he could feel the cooled air nipping at the tips of his ears and his nose. He yawned, fatigued from days of riding and sleepless nights. If the witch let him, he’d probably just curl up in front of the fire and sleep for a week straight. It certainly wouldn’t be the _most_ uncomfortable place he’d slept.

            The door creaked, and he looked up to see Moira returning, a bowl of something that didn’t look edible in one hand and a heavy-looking kettle spouting steam in the other. She had removed her cloak, and he noticed a series of glyphic tattoos spiraling up her right forearm and into her long deep-green tunic. She set the items down and turned her attention to him.

            “How is Streya?” He asked, feeling his heart begin to flutter again. What should he expect from what was about to happen?

            “Well-fed and resting. But my concerns do not lie with your horse.” She tugged the blanket gently off his shoulders. “Let’s have a look at you, hm?”

He grunted and crossed his arms over his now-bare chest, staring into the flames to distract himself while she circled him, giving him a once-over.

“Tell me about the troubles you’ve been experiencing,” she said, breaking the silence.

“I get headaches and faint. My nose bleeds black. I lose control of my temper like I’m an adolescent,” he growled, irritated at the mere thought of it.

“Do you also experience an increase in other emotions? Fear? Sorrow? Confusion?”

“I…don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re trembling. Are you frightened of me?”

“I’m cold,” he said drily. 

“Hm.” She crossed to the table and poured a cup of tea, which she passed to him. “This will warm you.”

He eyed the unusually dark liquid suspiciously. “What is it?”

“A restorative herbal tea I give to those who seek my help derived of dandelion, eucalyptus, and lavender. To relax the mind and refresh the body. Once you’ve had a cup and gotten some rest, you’ll feel better.”

He took a sniff of the pleasantly aromatic tea, then a tentative sip. He gagged, coughing up the bitter drink.

“I said it was good for you, not that it tasted good,” the witch commented, amused.

“No reason for it to be that unpleasant,” he sputtered, wiping his mouth.

She smiled. “That’ll be the eucalyptus. No, it’s not pleasant in concentration, but I wouldn’t use it without reason.”

He glowered at her. “What else are you going to do for me besides giving me this swill?”

“There is something I would like to try. Finish your tea and I will tell you.”

He grimaced and downed the cup, wishing for something to drown the taste of the tea. She picked the cup out of his hands and refilled it.

“I’ll talk while you have that,” she said.

He glared at her.

“You came to me for help, didn’t you, Gabriel? If you are incapable of trusting me, then you may leave. But be aware that if you leave, you _will_ die. I have my suspicions as to what’s wrong with you, and you won’t get help elsewhere.”

He dug his nails into the clay cup and took another mouthful of her herbal concoction.

“ _Now,_ “ she said, settling herself in the chair, her gaze trained on him, “I know why you’re sick. But you probably don’t. You’re not _supposed_ to know.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re a sorcerer.”

He scoffed. “If I was, I’d know.”

_“Would_ you?” She asked, her voice a low purr.

“I-“ He stopped, trying to think of some explanation. “I don’t have manifestations of magical abilities.”

“No, you don’t. You lack these manifestations because someone else is _blocking_ them. The build-up of magic is making you ill.”

He stopped her with a hand. “It is possible for a sorcerer to block another sorcerer’s abilities? And how is _magic_ making me sick?”

“Yes, and the spells are very complex and time-consuming, which is why it is so difficult to enact. Sometimes this is used to contain a dangerous or unstable sorcerer, but if left in place a block can kill a magic-user. Pent-up magic is like a sealed kettle left on the fire; the energy builds in the body, and if not let loose, it pushes itself out. _Violently._ ” She stared at his face. “I believe the block you bear was created by the Sisters some years ago in an attempt to stop you from maturing as a wizard. They attempt to do good, but their actions are born of fear and ignorance, and they do harm instead.”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. “Why would they block me?”

“Based on what the Sisters would attempt to squelch, I believe your abilities to be based in the darker side of the arcane, not dissimilar to mine. Anyone can heal, provided they have the magical talent and knowledge, but the other abilities sourced from a darker strain of magic frighten most people.”

“And are they right to be afraid?”

Moira studied him thoughtfully. “If used correctly and not for personal gain, then no. We are a balancing force to the lighter side of magic, more potent and much rarer, but nothing more threatening.” She _tsked._ “It is a shame you had to suffer for their mistrust and ignorance. But,” her eyes glittered, “I can free you, if you let me.”

 “How do you know this will work?”

“I’m older than I look, Gabriel. I have not encountered any other magicians with this block placed upon them, but I have removed my own block, placed by the very same people you once put faith in. I know how.” She stood and beckoned to him. “Come. I will show you.”

He stood, retrieved the blanket she’d taken from him, and joined her at the table, watching her thumb through the massive book to the beginning. A page he thought bore the title _Thralls_ caught his attention, and the hair on his neck rose again. Then it was gone in a flurry of paper, like a half-remembered dream. Moira’s long fingers paused and smoothed the hand-inked pages with a soft crackle.

“Do you know how to read?” She asked him.

“The basics.”

She stepped aside and let him look. The pages she’d opened to were written in the Anglican alphabet, and he read as much as he could, though fatigue fogged his mind. Chunks of it were rendered unintelligible by virtue of his limited written vocabulary, but he understood the majority of the text, which confirmed what she’d said. Magic existed in polar forces that balanced each other, with a very short history of the relationships between magicians and regular people and the persecution some suffered based on their unfortunate talents. It mentioned also the misfortune the darker arts were capable of inflicting on others, and the creation of the blocks, or seals, as they were referred to, to protect other magicians and ordinary people alike. It finished with a warning about using seals to permanently contain magic and the harm they might cause an individual imprinted with a seal. He raised his head, exhaustion-tempered fury lapping at his innards.

“Do you understand now?” Moira asked softly as he reached the end of the page.

“Do the Sisters know this?” He asked.

“They do. They play the numbers game. One sacrifice for the good of all.” A sneer curled her mouth. “Or at least that’s their justification.”

He met her eyes. “What will it take to remove this seal?”

“The right incantation, a little bit of your blood, your name, and of course, innate magical talent.” Her eerie smile had returned. Again he remembered the warnings he’d been given, warnings uttered a lifetime ago and a million miles from this place. He didn’t have the energy to overanalyze what was going on; he was practically falling asleep on his feet. The witch may be mysterious and dangerous, but she also had answers, and more importantly, the promise of healing him.

He gave in with a sigh.

“My name is Gabriel Reyes,” he murmured, blinking heavy eyelids.

“Ah.” Her eyes sparkled. “Well then, Gabriel Reyes, I think you should get some rest. You’ve gone through a lot to get here.”

“Right.” He trudged to the bed and collapsed onto it, only half-aware of her nearby, ready to catch him if his uneven steps failed. “But the counterspell-“ He protested thickly.

“Don’t worry about anything more tonight, Gabriel. I will take very good care of you.” Fuzzy contentment stole through him at her words.

“Go to sleep,” she murmured, and the cabin faded into dreams.

**************************************

Moira waited for her spell to take hold before stepping back from her slumbering guest. She was surprised he’d been able to fight off the effects of the tea for so long. He’d become loose-tongued under its influence, but unlike others she’d chosen to give it to, he’d still maintained consciousness until she’d invoked his name and imbued her command for rest with a bit of power. She’d met magicians before and performed this same experiment on them, but he was the first that wielded dark magic and the first that had managed to resist her so efficiently. It was fortunate that she’d gotten his full name, or he might not have stayed asleep for the duration of what she was about to do.

She thumbed through her book and made a small note in one of the margins about the diminished effect of eucalyptus brews on magic users, then picked up the moon-lily ink  and returned to the sleeping man. That seal had to go before she did anything else, or this probably would not work properly. Wool scratched her fingers as she peeled the man’s blankets back, exposing his bare, scarred skin. She rolled him onto his stomach with only slight difficulty, tracing his scars once more. He seemed a tough warrior, which was exactly what she needed in these increasingly dangerous times. And in addition, he had untapped magical abilities, which she could easily utilize for her own ends.

She dipped a paintbrush in the ink, then ran the brush in a small arc across the back of Gabriel’s neck, leaving a pale bluish-purple stain in its wake. The man did not stir at the cold, damp touch of the ink-soaked bristles, nor as she completed the first glyph. The quiet crackle of the fire filled the otherwise silent atmosphere as she inked more runes across his back, forming the figurative key to the figurative arcane lock binding the man’s abilities. She consulted her book as she waited for the ink to dry, then called forth her own power and placed her hands on the man’s shoulders. The incantation tumbled from her lips like an old yet familiar melody, and the runes shimmered in response. The knight grunted sharply as she spoke the last word, and she smiled. She recalled this effect from her own unbinding, like a lost portion of memories suddenly being restored, and the rush of dizzying power that followed. The runes faded from existence, the spell complete.

She considered the man again. A soft rustle drew her attention, and she smiled, knowing who was watching without having to look up.

“What do you think?” She asked the figure softly. “He’s capable and obedient, though not blindly so. Should I keep him?”

The figure said nothing.

            “Of course,” Moira continued, not waiting for or expecting a response, “I wouldn’t expect _you_ to provide a bipartisan opinion. I won’t apologize; we  both know what you’re capable of.” She threw the skulking shadow a glance. “Besides, _my_ magic protects us, though it won’t last forever. I’ll need some defense; until now the commoners have been sending small groups to try to find and kill me. But when they wise up, they will come in force and bring someone who can break my illusion. And then you and I will both be in trouble.”

A small grunt of protest issued from the shadow hiding out of sight.

“Ah, but you cannot protect us forever, can you? Therefore, I must involve others. Besides, this man faces only prosecution and fear outside my home. You can relate to that, can’t you?”

Again the figure said nothing. _Likely fuming,_ Moira thought, though her order for the individual not to speak, interfere, or enter the space still held.

“Sulking will get you nowhere. Both you and I know that this is for our own safety. And you _know_ how important my magic is to people.” She smiled.  “I’ll be more careful this time; he won’t feel my magic’s effects nearly as strongly as you do. Practice does help.”

The only response was an angry hiss. Moira shook her head and turned back to her work, withdrawing her knife from its sheath and taking Gabriel’s arm in a firm grasp. She drew the knife with precise care across the knight’s tanned, muscled shoulder, the blade parting the man’s skin easily. Red swelled in the wound, gathered, and dripped down his arm. She caught the trickle of blood in the ink-bowl, dyeing the liquid a deep red, then sealed the wound with a burst of magic, leaving unmarked skin behind.

The incantation to activate the ink was a simple one, but one that still gave her a rush when she spoke the words. Shimmers danced briefly within the ink, and it turned from red to deep acid-green. She smiled and began work in earnest.

*************

Night began to fade, dawn pushing back the veil of darkness.

And still the witch worked.

Eyes watched her from the shadows as she drew intricate glyphs and designs on the sleeping man’s back, executing each stroke of her brush with precision and care, turning the knight’s skin into a tapestry of arcane symbols. The watcher strained against invisible bonds that would not break, desperately willing for the unwary man to wake as the witch began to chant, incantations rolling seamlessly from her tongue. Modified spells woven from the witch’s knowledge and skill set the still air humming, the exertion-induced sweat on the witch’s brow glimmering in the firelight.

The man did not stir.

Afternoon sun glimmered outside the window before the sorceress spoke her final line in a fatigued murmur that somehow carried, and the watcher quaked at the words, suddenly weak at the knees as the incantation invoked the power of the watcher’s own blood-thrall. Spent and shaking, the witch finally stood, her work complete, and removed the sleeping enchantment she’d placed on the man with a few words.

“Do not wake him, but see to his needs when he does wake.And do not tell him of what has transpired,” she ordered, her gaze meeting the doorway where the watcher stood. “I must rest.”

And with that, she disappeared, her dark deed finished, with none left as a witness except the watcher, silent and still.


	5. Return to Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sir Reyes discovers another person living in the witch's house and is given a generous offer that may have an exorbitant cost.   
> ******************

Gabriel woke up, his skin prickled with sweat, the heavy scent of his surroundings reminding him of where he was. He lay still, watching nearly-invisible wisps of smoke curl from the dead fire for a timeless while before his hunger and thirst intruded upon his tiredness, nudging him to get up. He clasped the blanket tight around his waist and stood, spotting his tunic and pants neatly folded on the table. A stoppered jug, a cup, and  a plate with a dense-looking loaf of bread sat next to his clothes. He quickly dressed, then unstoppered the container and poured a cup. After an initial taste to determine whether the food and water was safe to consume, he took a slice of the loaf.

_Creak._

He whipped around, his hand drifting to the sword that wasn’t there. The door at the back of the cabin shifted slightly, a shadow flickering behind it.

“Hello?”

No response.

“Show yourself,” he called, grasping the bread knife. Again the door creaked, and a figure silently stepped out from behind the door, hovering at the threshold. She wasn’t particularly tall, but she was lean and muscular, her raven hair falling over and obscuring her face as she looked at the floor, her hands tucked in her sleeves, her feet hidden by wool socks.

“I didn’t know the witch was treating someone else.”

“She’s not.” The voice that issued from behind the curtain of hair sounded soft and sad. “I am sorry if I startled you.”

Wood clicked against clay as he put the knife back. “I could say the same.” He gestured to the table and the food on it. “This was you?”

She nodded.

 “Why didn’t you show yourself?”

“I…” She paused, as though she couldn’t decide what to say. “I don’t like to.”

“Why not? _She’s_ not afraid of showing herself. Why should you be?” He asked, trying to peer around her curtain of hair. What little of her skin he _could_ see looked an oddly dark color, but that could be just the bad lighting.

A small, dry laugh followed his words. “I’m not like her.”

“You’re not? How so?”

She raised her head, and her hair parted. He swallowed a gasp. A blue-skinned, amber-eyed humanoid stared back at him.

“You’re…a _water nymph_ , aren’t you?” He’d heard of the creatures, beautiful, strange, aloof incarnations of rivers themselves, playful but mercurial in their personality, as likely to curse you at disturbing them as they might be to invite you to a game.

Again she nodded.

“What are you doing here? I thought water nymphs were tied to their rivers.”

A sad smile flickered about her mouth. “A myth.”

“But what are you doing here?”

Her expression turned troubled and she did not respond.

“Did I say something?” He asked.

“I…cannot discuss it.”

“Why not?”

She simply shook her head, backing a few steps towards the door, her eyes darting around the cabin.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t go,” he pleaded, reaching out a hand towards her.

She stopped, locking gazes with him, her mouth pressed into a thin-lipped frown.

“Tell me about you.”

Her frown deepened, her eyebrows drawing together. _Oops_ , he thought, mentally backpedaling.

“Look, I just got here…how long was I sleeping for?”

“A night and half a day.”

“Yes, that, and I only just found out I’m a sorcerer. Surely you have a better handle on this magic thing.”

“You…” Her voice cut off in a sharp squeak. Her face drew itself into a grimace. She looked at him and shook her head.

“ _What?_ ”

“She…I cannot.”

“Can’t _what?_ ”

She glared at him, as though her difficulty speaking was his fault. He spun around as the door swung in with a creak, revealing the witch. 

“Good afternoon, Gabriel. I see you’ve met my dear assistant. Amelie, I hope you were polite in greeting him?”

“She said hello to me already,” Reyes said, covering for the dumb-stricken girl.

“Good,” Moira purred. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be rude to my houseguests. Now, if you would, Amelie, my dear, take your leave? I must discuss private matters with Gabriel.”

The nymph turned on her heel and left, her expression etched with fury, her long hair whirling as though caught in a high wind.

“Who is she?”

“A water nymph,” the witch said evasively, a smug smile tugging at her thin lips.

“I figured _that_ out. How did you find her, and why is she so _angry_?”

“Ah, you wanted details…” The witch thought for a long moment, still smiling. “She came to me one day for help. She was terribly injured by people who were scared of her, poor thing, and required my specialized talents. She simply did not like the price she paid for her healing, and she has a bit of a grudge as a result.”

“You have not told me your price yet. I have gold, if it’s payment you want.”

She chuckled, her laughter rebounding eerily off the wood-and-mud walls. “Never you mind.”

“Is that true, witch?” He retorted, rounding on her. “Should I worry that she was healed by you and now hates you?”

“Oh, Gabriel, you worry too much. I wouldn’t hurt either of you. It’s not in my nature to do harm.” She cocked her head slightly her eyes gleaming. “Why do you think I pursued life as a healer?”

“Because you can get things you want in return.”

“And what I want right now is someone to help in harvesting my garden. The flowers must be picked and dried before they wither and become useless. Would you assist me?”

“And my price is paid?”

“And your price is paid,” she assured.

“All right.”

“You’ll want these.” She drew a pair of roughly-made leather gloves from beneath her cloak. “Some of the plants in my garden are a wee bit toxic.”

He pulled them on and followed her outside. Behind the house stood an expansive, wild-looking garden resplendent with flowers, a bread oven, a sizeable pot bubbling away on an open fire, and a paddock ringed by a sturdy fence. The witch handed him a knife and a basket.

“Leave a few blooms so that the plants can re-seed themselves. Get to work.”

“Which ones?”

“The ones that are currently flowering, you dolt.” She crossed to the pot, pulled a sheaf of dried something from her belt, and began shredding it and adding it to the mixture. Reyes set to work, picking his way among the flowers, some of which he knew and had been warned by his mother not to touch. Belladonna, wolfsbane, foxglove, hemlock…She _did_ have the ingredients to brew some powerful poisons. He silently thanked her for the gloves as he began to gather her strange crop. The sap of some of the plants flowed thickly, quickly staining the leather gloves with a sticky substance.

He worked until his back ached and his skin tingled sensitively with the onset of sunburn. When he paused and straightened, he could just make out the village below through the trees and the road that wound through it, a single dirty line leading far into the distance, pointing towards home. He felt a twist of inexplicable guilt like a knife in his gut, and he did not look up again until the sun began to fall in the sky and the day’s heat gave way to cooler evening.

The witch came and went, checking whatever she was brewing or watching him or vanishing for an hour at a time. But as the shadows lengthened and day faded, she called to him, and he gratefully retreated indoors, dropping the basket on the nearest clear surface. A meal of stew and bread steamed on the table, but it was the pitcher of water that interested him, and he downed it before turning to the food.

“You’ve got quite an appetite for sleeping half the day.”

He jumped, winced as the movement stretched his burned skin, and turned gingerly. The witch stood behind him, watching him. It still made him uncomfortable at how easy it was for her to sneak up on him.

“Do you need something?”

“Not at all. I appreciate your help.”

“My debt’s paid. I’m free to go,” he said firmly.

“You always have been free to go. But in your case, I can offer additional services you might want.” She smiled mischievously.

He mused over this offer, unsure of whether he wanted to take on additional debt. _But she does seem to know an awful lot about me…_ “I’m listening.”

“Magic lessons. A tutor, bed, and food in exchange for your labor. In addition, your work will produce poultices and tinctures I can use for healing, which will also teach you how treat yourself or your friends.”

He thought about it. It did seem awfully generous of her. “I can’t stay long. Lord Morrison will want to know where I’ve been.”

“Of course he will. Why don’t you go home and talk to him, then return when you are ready to begin training?”

Reyes frowned. “I’ll have to lie to him.”

“If you must, you must. It seems a bit of a pity, but if you really want to pursue this, then you’ll want to move away from commonfolk anyway. They don’t take kindly to people like you or I.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he winced at the contact. “Oh, my apologies. Let me do something about that.”

She bustled around the cabin, collecting various bits and things, pounding them together in a bowl.

“I don’t want to owe you anything else right now,” he said sharply.

“I’ll do this one for free. It’s a simple remedy, provided you have the ingredients for it.” She returned, stirring something that looked like green mud. “This will soothe the burn.” She scooped a dollop out and smeared it across his sunburnt shoulders. He bit back a sigh. The remedy, whatever it was, felt like it was actually leeching the heat from his sun-scorched skin.

“It feels nice, yes?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“This works equally well on burns from fire. Give this recipe to a blacksmith, and you’ll earn yourself a very grateful acquaintance.”

“That how you made friends in town?”

She smiled. “One of many. The craftsmen and women of the town will frequently exchange goods for my services. I tend to drive a much harder bargain with them than wandering folk like you.”

“Well, thank you then.”

“You’re welcome.” She stepped back. “You will depart tomorrow morning, then?”

“I’ve been gone too long,” he answered. “Lord Morrison has to know where I’ve been.”

She _tsked._ “Your kind is always the same; constantly rushing off to your deaths, never able to sit still.” She put the bowl down. “Well, then, I suppose you’d best get some rest. But do keep my offer in mind; I should like to see you return.”

***********************

Moira watched Sir Reyes depart, heading away from the rising sun. He hadn’t said much more the previous night or this morning, other than a brief, almost-embarrassed ‘thank you’ for breakfast. She’d done her best to ensure the man would remember her in a good way, despite the little incident with the tea, and it seemed to have worked. She saw his mind working as he thought over her offer and the possible alternatives. She knew what his decision would be, but giving him apparent choice would make it that much easier to keep him by her side when she finally pulled at his magical leash.  

“Will he return, do you think?” Lacroix asked, her voice sullen.

She smiled. “Oh, he’ll be back, dear. Of that I have no doubt.”

*************

Not entirely happy with this one. But I hope you guys like it. 

Next chapter will be more exciting. Promise. We're checking in with our misfit band next time, and Lena's hiding something she doesn't want other people to know. Here's a little snippet. 

_The halfling glanced up at him, and he studied their guilt-ridden features. Oh, he knew this young cutpurse. She’d passed through town like a plague some years ago, nicking any small items of value that happened to be easily accessible. She might have gotten her hair cut unseemly short, but that didn’t change her features._

_“Tell me, McCree; if you are being honest with me, how do you know Quickpaw here?”_


	6. Things Once Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past comes back to haunt Lena when someone recognizes her. Elsewhere, Reyes discovers the effects of Moira's magic on him.  
> *************************

“Sir! Our watchmen have detained a small group of strangers that entered town this afternoon. One of them says he recognized one and wonders what to do with them.”

Morrison put aside the letter he was reading and stood up, belting on his sword. “Why were they detained?”

“The little one might be a wanted criminal. Or so the watch told me.”

He scowled as he followed the attendant. Why would a wanted criminal be wandering around town during the middle of the day? He gave his head a slight shake. No matter; if this person was a problem, he would deal with them soon enough.

In the courtyard stood eight people; five of his watchmen, armed to the teeth, and the three strangers. The first was an ordinary size, the second, the aforementioned “little person”, either a dwarf or halfling of some description, but the third looked to be half-giant or troll, his huge, all-muscle girth encircled by thick, thick armor. They stood silent and still, watching him approach.

“Sir, these are theirs,” the captain said, pointing to a pile of confiscated weapons; two bows and matching quivers, one longsword and one shortsword, a few daggers, and a massive hammer and shield. 

“What business do you have here?” Morrison asked them sharply. “And why come so heavily armed?”

“We were told by one Gabriel Reyes to find you,” the leader said. “My name is James McCree, and we are just wandering mercenaries searching for work. We carry our weapons as a means of defense, nothing more.”

“Were you ordinary mercenaries, I would tell you to begone and have nothing more to do with you. However, my guard tells me that one of you is a criminal.”

The littlest member of the party shifted. James shot the cloaked person a look. Morrison scowled and unsheathed his sword. 

“Should I find that you, James, are abetting a criminal, I will see that you get what you rightfully deserve.”

“You will find no such criminal here, Lord Morrison,” James said, his voice unwavering.

“We will see.” He advanced on the littlest member of the strange troupe and raised his sword, catching the hood of the person with the point and revealing their face with a skillful flick. The halfling glanced up at him, and he studied their guilt-ridden features. Oh, he knew this young cutpurse. She’d passed through town like a plague some years ago, nicking any small items of value that happened to be easily accessible. She might have gotten her hair cut unseemly short, but that didn’t change her features.

“Tell me, McCree; if you are being honest with me, how  _do_ you know Quickpaw here?” He asked, using the thief’s nickname.

James gave his halfling charge a scandalized, furious look. 

“Take them to the dungeons. I will speak with these prevaricators at length later.” 

None of them protested, but both men glowered at the halfling as Morrison’s watchmen led them away. Almost as if they didn’t know she was a thief.

_Curious._

*****************************

“Good job, kid.” James’ voice echoed off the stone walls. It wasn’t the worst dungeon she’d been in by far; it was dank and dark, but the straw piles were clean, there were actual benches to sit on, and she didn’t see any obvious sign of rats. She didn’t know what  _he_ was complaining about.

Lena ignored him, sat down, and took off her shoe. She’d gotten them into this mess, but it would be a snap to get them out again.

             “What are you doing?”

 “Just a mo’. I’ll get us out of here in a jiffy. Got a lockpick kit-“

_“_ No _._ ”

            Lena frowned at a scowling McCree. “Why not? I got you guys in ‘ere. I should get us out again, right?”

            “We’re already in enough trouble. Put your shoe back on.”

            She did as he asked and sat down on the floor, looking at the heavily-armored knight. 

            “Erm…so what’s the plan? Is Reinhardt going to bust us out?”

            “ _No.”_

She considered the situation a moment. If she couldn’t use her lockpicks and the knight wasn’t going to break them out…“I could always do that shapeshifting thing-“

            “No means no, child.” Reinhardt said, his voice a deep growl. 

            She threw up her hands. “Well, then, how d’you expect us to get out of here?”

            “We talk to Morrison and explain this was a mistake. He got the wrong person.” James said.

            “Ehh…” She shifted uncomfortably, her face warming.

            “What?”

            “I did do those things he said, actually.” She mumbled, glancing at both of them and shrinking down further under their furious gazes. “What?” She squawked. “I needed to eat too!”

            “So that  _was_ what you were doing skulking around our saddlebags.” 

            “Uh…you’re talkin’ about when you caught me couple of years ago?” 

            James rolled his eyes. She felt her face flush.

            “Well, you didn’t believe my story anyway,” she griped. “Do I need to remind you how long you kept me tied up for, hauling me around ‘cause you didn’t believe me?”

            “And it seems we were right to, given today.”

            “Take it easy, James. She’s paid enough for her crimes,” Reinhardt said softly. 

            “Morrison doesn’t think so. And I don’t need to tell you what happens if he decides we’re too much trouble to keep around.”

            Lena glanced at Reinhardt. The man drew a thumb across his throat. She swallowed. 

            “I’m sorry. I mean it.”

            “I know, kid.” James offered with a sigh. “I know you are. But what’s done is done.” He sat on the bench and leaned against the bars. “Look, since we’re not going anywhere, you might as well tell us how you fell into being a thief.”

            “Well…” She picked up a piece of straw and started shredding it. “I know what it is wot let me do it. That shapeshifting thing. It used to happen a lot when I was little. I got scared and next thing I knew the furniture was way over my ‘ead and I was having to avoid the cat wot wandered ‘round our property looking for mice.” She reached the end of the straw and picked up another piece before continuing. “Me mum and dad had a right old fit when the figured out what was really going on. Think I scared ‘em. Anyway, they tried to get me a tutor to control the magic, but it damn near took every last penny just to get it manageable.” She stopped, the last fragments of gold falling from her fingers. “My tutor eventually brought up magic blocks, and they insisted I have one put on me. That’s about the time I ran away. I…didn’t want to burden them, and they was so scared of me. Not sure what other magic talents I had.” She blinked back tears. “Since then, I’d been living on my own. My time as a small animal taught me ‘ow to be stealthy, so I started stealing so I could feed myself. Eventually they figured out who was behind all the theft, so I ‘ad to steal a horse too and rode outta town. Been moving from town to town, looking for healers and trying to keep myself fed.” She looked up at her companions. “Yeh. That’s pretty much it. Ran into my share of bandits, stole from enough good people. Eventually ran into you, and you got me turned ‘round.”

            “So what was making you sick that you needed to go see that healer for?” James said, his face crumpled in confusion.

            “The block was. She took it off me, taught me a few things about controlling my magic. I escaped in the middle of the night on night two and came back to you.” She shuddered, recalling the touch of the witch’s hands on her skin, that eerie smirk that never seemed to fade from the woman’s face. “She’s good, but she’s bloody terrifyin’.” 

            “I’m glad you were wise enough not to trust her too much.”

            “It was ‘ard, though. Her place is laced with magic; it makes your brain fuzzy and tired. You can’t think straight. Leastwise, not inside her house.”

             James’ expression soured in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me this?

            “Wot’s it to you? You’re not sick, are you?”

            He paused before answering. “I…sent the knight we met, Reyes, to her.”

            “You  _wot?”_

            “He told me he was looking for her, and I sent him to her.”

            She dug her fingers into her leg. “He’ll ‘ave no idea what to look for or what magic feels like. If ‘e’s not careful or if she casts more spells on him, he’ll ‘ave no chance.”

            James mumbled a curse. “What will she do with him?”

            “Couldn’t tell you. But we’ll have to watch him when he comes back. If he comes back.” 

            Silence fell, and she chewed her lip, absorbing the consequences of her friend’s actions. 

            Sir Reyes, lonely, ill knight, had met them on the road and could clarify this whole mess. Sir Reyes had spent at least two days with the mysterious and dangerous Lady Moon and might be under the witch’s spell. Sir Reyes might never return, and they might never see any sort of freedom again. 

            Sir Reyes was probably as good as dead, and so were they.

            **************************

Four days later, the guards appeared, carrying keys.

“Just the archer,” one of them growled. James stiffened.

“The verdict?” James asked.

The guards didn’t answer, placing themselves on either side of him.

“Oi! What’d Morrison say?” Lena shouted.

James shot her a withering look, hopefully warning enough to keep her quiet. She was spunky and fearless, but she was going to make things worse if she kept shouting and complaining. He could hear her griping at Reinhardt to let go all the way up the stairs and found it oddly endearing that she was scared for him.

The guards marched him up into the great hall. The lord of the keep, easily identifiable in his blue cloak, watched him sternly as he approached. Reyes seemed busy with his ale at first, but looked up as James approached, dark circles under his eyes. He sat and crossed his arms.

“Something you want to talk to me about?”

“Tell me what happened when you met Sir Reyes. Gabriel, stop him if he gets anything wrong.”

He recounted the events, from finding the knight sprawled by the side of the road to watching him ride off the next morning. Reyes stopped him only twice to correct small details.

“That’s everything?” Morrison asked as he finished the story.

“Yes.”

Across from him, Reyes nodded. Morrison turned to the knight.

“And you’re sure nothing was stolen from you?”

He nodded again. “To be honest, I was more worried about the witch than them.”

Morrison fell into quiet thought.

“Seems you’ve actually managed to reform the little devil, then.” He rubbed at his temples. “But the matter of what to do with the three of you grows ever more complicated. I’ll have to keep you locked up while I make up my mind; I don’t think it’s wise to let people see you three running about, especially if someone recognizes you. But I will see that you’re fed better, and you will not be executed.”

James nodded. As bad as the deal was, the alternative was easily worse.

“Sir Reyes, you may take your leave. I know you’re tired; go rest.”

The knight got up and disappeared.

“Is there something else?” James asked.

“Sir Reyes mentioned you told him how to find the healer he was looking for. Tell me more about her. He won’t say much about his healing.”

“Lena was the same way. I didn’t spend a lot of time talking to the witch; she just takes the people who need healing with her.”

“Did she tell you much about her encounter with the witch?”

“No. She said the magic woven into the very house fogs the mind. She doesn’t remember much of being there. All we know for sure is that she was having fits, we sought healing, and she hasn’t taken ill since.”

Morrison frowned. “Why would this healer have such magic?”

“I don’t know. It could be for protection; the town nearby is thick with rumors, not all of them good, relating to her. But I can only guess.”

“If your halfling could detect the magic there, could she also detect any enchantments the witch might have laid on Gabriel?”

“Maybe. She only recently regained that ability, so she may not remember how it works or be able to detect any specific kind of magic.”

“I see. If she would do this for me, it would go a long way towards earning my pardon. For now, we shall let him rest. He’s had a hard ride here.” He stood. “Share this news with your companions. We will speak again soon.”

James gave Lord Morrison a half-bow and allowed the guards to escort him back to his cell, concern bubbling like acid in his gut. If the witch had ensorcelled Sir Reyes, what might she have done to Lena?

***************************

Gabriel woke up, not quite sure for a second of where he was.

The hard, cold shell of armor he’d forgotten to take off reminded him, and he sat up. His head was pounding, and he felt terribly thirsty. He got up and went for the pitcher of water on his bedside table, shedding his armor like snake-skin as he went. He gulped down one cup, then two, staring out at the moonlit night spread before him.

The grass sparkled with dew, and the bright moon poked a finger of wan blue-whiteness through the window, lending soft, dim light to the otherwise black room. He leaned against the window and sighed. He hadn’t had a fit in days, so that had to mean the witch had held up her end of the bargain. He glanced in the direction of Bren and the witch’s house, considering her offer of lessons. The idea wouldn’t leave his head, and the more he considered it, the more it seemed like a good idea.

_Magic lessons…_

He wondered what sort of things she might teach him. He’d refuse lessons in necromancy, but maybe there was something else useful he could learn.

He drummed his fingers against the stone walls, his thumb finding a small patch of moss, and stretched in the moonlight. He could almost feel it settling on his skin, soaking in, cool and soothing as a summer rain.

Something flaked from the wall and fell into his fingers, and he paused to examine it. The fuzzy green moss under his right thumb had shriveled and dried, crumbling to dust. A light wind tugged at his hair, and the fragments slipped through his fingers like sand. He shook out his palm and hastily wiped his hand on his pants, his heart beating too quickly.

Was it the magic surfacing?

He didn’t know, but a horrible thought bubbled to the forefront of his mind. If this was really magic, and this magic killed moss, what would it do to an animal? A _human_?

The decision solidified in his head. He had to talk to her again if he was going to get any answers on this. Before he accidentally murdered somebody.


	7. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison gives James' misfit band a chance to find their place, and a little of Reinhardt's background is revealed.  
> ***************************

_Sunlight._

He never thought he’d miss it so much given his fair share of sunburns, but here he was, stretching in the warmth, grinning like a child. It was nice not to be stuck in a dungeon for a bit while he worked.

He lifted the mead barrel on his left shoulder a little higher. He hadn’t seen Reyes since Morrison had let them out of the dungeon yesterday, but the notion to thank the man the next time he saw Reyes hung at the forefront of his mind. Morrison had set the trio to work; Lena was in charge of running messages around the castle, James had left to go hunting (apparently Morrison had a taste for venison), and he’d been tasked with retrieving a mead shipment from the brewery in town and moving it to the kitchens. He approved. Nothing like some good, honest labor to help earn your keep.

Wood creaked as he hefted his barrels into the back of the wagon.

“That’s the last of ‘em,” he called to the lord’s servant, who had eventually given his name as Matthias. He jumped into the seat beside the man with enough force to make the loaded cart shake. The man snapped the reins, and the ox yoked to the cart let out a discontented grumble before lumbering forward.

“You were going to finish your story?” Matthias asked, turning curiously towards him.

Reinhardt blinked. _Oh._ The tale about his first monster hunt. He grinned and continued the story, embellishing as he went along.

“There I was, trapped in the beast’s jaws, its foul breath heaving into my face. I hung onto my knife, even as its teeth pressed down on me, threatening to rupture my armor, and remembered what the quartermaster said. I aimed for the roof of its mouth, felt the knife sink in, and it squealed-“

“Squealed? Do lindworms squeal?”

“Like a pig. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, covered in the beast’s spit while it thrashed around, snapping its jaws and clawing at its own face. I snatched up a nearby sword and drove it into its neck, right below its ear. Ten seconds later, it was dead.”

“Wait…how old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

Matthias snorted. “You jest.”

Reinhardt shrugged. “Well, my quartermaster knows the truth,” he said, and left it at that. The background noises of the jostling cart and the chatter of people as they talked to each other filled the pair’s silence.

“What do you suppose happened to them all?” The servant asked after a long minute.

Reinhardt snorted. “They’re still around. Dangerous, costly pests they are too.”

“Not the lindworms. Dragons.”

The mercenary thought for a long moment. “Probably wiped out. During the Schism Arcana, I heard tell magicians used to harness a dragon’s natural magic for weapons of mass destruction when each was trying to wipe the other out. Can’t say for sure, though. I’m not exactly a historian.” He frowned slightly. “Lindworms are just dragons’ nonmagical pesky cousins. Too dangerous and not worth it to hunt, so we would only be sent out after them when they started eating the local livestock.”

Matthias didn’t respond for a long moment, lost in thought. “In speaking of monsters, there’s an interesting tale that I heard at the tavern last night.”

Reinhard raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Someone brought word of a horse-like creature with rushes for a mane and orange eyes. I think they said they saw it in Bren? They also said that there have been disappearances around the area, like it’s eating people.” Matthias looked at him. “Some people are worried about it following the last of the eastern caravans back into town. Have you heard any such rumors?”

Reinhardt stroked his beard. “Hmm…yes. Matter of fact,  I think I have heard of this beast. A monster-hunter in Bren told me of the creature. He’s been trying to track it down and kill it; people are scared of leaving town, and it’s impeding trade what with the rumors starting to fly about it.”

“You think it might come this way?”

“It seems to like Bren, but if it got hungry enough I suppose it might move.”

The cart bounced into the castle courtyard. Matthias halted the ox and frowned.

“Lord Morrison will want to hear about this.”

Reinhardt grunted in assent and waved jovially to the familiar figure standing hunched in one of the arches.

“Gabriel! REYES!”

The man looked up in alarm as Reinhardt vaulted off the cart and charged toward him. The knight ducked into the darkness clinging to the interior arch, and the bigger man gave chase.

“Reyes, wait! I-“

He stumbled to a halt and blinked in confusion at the distinct lack of Reyes among the barrels lining the corridor.

“Reyes?”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Matthias asked. He turned to the man, whose face was crumpled in concern.

“You did see Gabriel here, didn’t you?” He asked the man.

Matthias shook his head and peered into the corridor. “Nay.”

“He was standing right there, just outside the arch.”

The servant nodded carefully. “We’d better unload the cart.”

Reinhardt looked around one more time, but only saw a bit of shadow dissipating in between the barrels. He sighed and returned to the cart, hefting a barrel on each shoulder.

“He saved the life of me and a few of my friends, you know. Haven’t gotten to thank him yet.”

Matthias grunted and lifted his own barrel down from the wagon. It landed on the ground with a dull _thud_ and left an indent where it struck. “Well, I don’t know if you’ll be able to catch up with him. He’s been very reclusive lately.” He eyed the rest of the barrels forlornly. “You lift. I’ll roll them inside.”

Reinhardt shrugged, nonchalant, and went about the task of unloading the cart, sweat beading on his brow in the late summer heat.

“Some of the others are talking about you,” Matthias said. He grunted as he shoved at one of the barrels, which refused to move.

Reinhardt chuckled. “What about? Surely I haven’t attracted that much attention.”

“Actually, yes. Mostly because of your size. Some of the servants are saying you’re the son of a giantess.” Matthias paused in his work, leaning against the barrels.

He snorted over his gray beard, his barrel chest trembling with laughter. “Nay. My grandfather was a paladin. He fought in the War Arcana when he was a young lad. The Wilhelm line might have ended then, were it not for the Sisters of Divine Fire. My father passed on a story that my grandfather used to tell, of him seeing an angel there, and of his healing, and of the incredible strength he was gifted with after the healing.”

Matthias stared at him. “He saw an angel? A real one?”

“That’s the story he tells. My father inherited my grandfather’s strength, and I inherited it from my father. My father always told me if my intentions were true and righteous, my strength would not waver. So far,” he hefted two more barrels with a grunt, “so good.”

“If they are real, why do you suppose they never turn up? Angels, that is.”

“Haven’t a clue. You’d have to ask someone else.”

He turned to get another barrel from the now mostly-empty wagon.

“Oi! Rein!”

He turned, and a weight impacted his middle, driving out his breath. Lena clung to his middle, squeezing tightly. He peeled his halfling companion off.

“Easy, Lena. I’m not that young anymore.”

“Come on then. Lord Morrison wants to ‘ave a talk with us.”

“Lena I really should-“

But she already had his arm in a strong grip, pulling him away. Matthias stared after them, a barrel forgotten at his feet.

*****************

Hey, everyone who's still reading this!

......

*crickets*

Yes, I know it's been a while. But I have some interesting news. Feudalwatch may become an original novel!

I've also officially quit having a beta because it takes so long for my beta to return material to me. I don't think you guys want to wait for that, and neither do I. 

Buuuut...

PLOT SYNOPSIS/BACKGROUND!

Long ago, two mighty, ethereal forces fought over a land rich with magic. Fearing that they would destroy what they sought to possess, they made an uneasy peace and disappeared. But their fighting did not leave the land unscarred. The magic woven into the very land was forever polarized, splitting it into the Auran and the Umbran. The magic touched a few certain people, who developed the ability to use the power-rich arcana, and through this, those not gifted with magical talent came to understand what each force was capable of. The Auran granted healing and light and comfort. The Umbran, however, could steal the breath of even the most lively young squire.

            Again the land knew war.

                       The  conflict that followed claimed the lives of many of the magical beasts; the unicorn, the hippocampus, and even the mighty dragon were hunted to extinction, their bodies highly valued for the natural magic that sang through them and could amplify even the smallest of sparks into raging torrents of flame.

            Thus, magic itself was driven almost to extinction.

            But humanity lived on. Small pockets of Auran healers survived the war, but a ban on Umbran magic spread across the countrysides. Those who were caught using this magic were punished with the utmost severity.

            Enter the Quartermaster, a loyal, well-trained soldier and the lord’s foremost advisor. He is past the prime of his youth, but still strong and capable and gifted with the wisdom that experience brings. Yet he is beginning to feel his age. He has been stricken with a strange affliction that no Auran healer can cure, and he is desperate to find a solution. But knowledge comes with a price, and going to any length to get it may cost him his very soul…

 

*End plot synopsis*

Would you read this as an original novel? Do you like the ideas here? Let me know. 

Thanks for reading this to the end, and I hope you all had a very Happy Holidays!

 


	8. Ahtohallan Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has been hearing strange melodies in his sleep. James, Lena, and Reinhardt are tasked with hunting a monster.

“Gabriel.”

The quartermaster’s sheath clattered against the arch as the man jumped like a spooked cat and spun around.

“Take it easy. It’s just me.”

Reyes dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Mi’lord.”

He crossed his arms and looked pointedly at the knight. “Enjoying the sun?”

“A bit,” Reyes mumbled, staring down at a bit of loose hay trapped between the paving stones at his feet.

“You’ve been avoiding me for the last few days, Gabriel. We have things we need to talk about.”

He rubbed a hand across his face. “Pardon, Mi’lord. I’ve been exhausted.”

He looked it. His shirt was rumpled and untucked, his beard looked like it was several days past needing a trim, and the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he’d just come out second place in a round of fisticuffs. The wind tugged at his tousled hair, and Jack caught a whiff of him. He held back a choke. Reyes smelled it, too.

Still, the man had duties to perform.

“That’s no excuse.”

Reyes sagged like a scarecrow with half the straw missing and stared morosely into the courtyard. “It’s just hard…” He mumbled. “I don’t want to make a mess of things.”

Jack sighed. The quartermaster was generous, yes, but he was still terrible with people on a good day, always getting into arguments and bluntly speaking his mind, even if his opinion angered someone else.His temper only worsened with sleep deprivation.

He reached out to clap his best friend on the shoulder, but Reyes jumped back, stumbling against the arch, his eyes wild.

“Don’t touch me.”

“What’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you.”

“Neither is this.” He reached down and plucked a couple pieces of grass.

Jack peered at the slightly dry, yellow-green, utterly unremarkable blades. For a moment they sat inert in the quartermaster’s calloused palm, then began to wither before his eyes.

“What? Gabriel?” He looked up into the man’s dark eyes.

Reyes crushed the desiccated remains in his hand. His face twisted in pain. “Jack, I’m an Umbran mage.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. I’ve had a block on me for the longest time, and Lady Moon said that it was making me sick. She took the block off me, but I don’t know how to control…” he opened his hand and blew the gray-brown dust off his palm, “…this.”

“You’ve got to figure this out. People will hurt you if they know.”

“I know, Jack.” Reyes closed his eyes. “Believe me, I know.”

“Go see the Sisters. Maybe they can help.”

Reyes scoffed. “They’re the ones who got me into this mess in the first place. No, I need to talk to Lady Moon again.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t trust her.”

The quartermaster’s mouth twisted. “Do you think I do? I need her knowledge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to trust her.” He scowled at Jack. “Besides, you’re the one who told me to go to her in the first place.”

“Because the Sisters couldn’t help with that. Promise me you’ll at least try to talk to them.”

“Maybe if Lady Moon doesn’t have a solution. Look,” he said more loudly, because Jack had stiffened, “she’s still the most experienced in the Umbran. If I go to the Sisters, they might only be able to put another block on me, and then it’ll be the same damn cycle all over again. I need to talk to her, and sooner rather than later.”

 “I suppose this means you won’t make it to our meeting, then.”

Reyes raised an eyebrow. “Meeting?”

“There’s a beast running loose in the woods near Bren. I’m concerned about it following the caravans back. Have you heard anything about this creature?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Not much. It hunts at night and looks kind of like a horse. I think some of locals are convinced it’s just a ghost story.”

“That’s what I intend to find out. I’m sending the little band of monster hunters that wandered into town out to Bren to find out what’s going on and if it’s a danger to us. I want you to meet up with them if you can.”

“Fine.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“No.”

Jack sighed. “Very well. If you have nothing else and if I cannot dissuade you, then you have my permission to leave. But keep me informed, yes?”

“If I can.”

“Fare well, then, Gabriel.”

“And you.”

Jack turned and began to walk away.

Come, my darling, homeward bound; when all is lost, then all is found.

Gabriel wasn’t much of a musician, but the melancholy melody, even repeated in the quartermaster’s low, rough tones, made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand up. He scolded himself. The quartermaster was tired, frustrated, ill, and homesick. Why shouldn’t he console himself with a lullaby? Jack would probably do the same in his situation.

He was reading too much into things.

He scowled at nothing in particular, and the unfortunate servant that happened to be passing gave him a nervous look. All this business with Umbran magic and mysterious sorceresses was making him jittery. He took a deep breath.

Focus.

Kill the monster, resolve Gabriel’s issues, and his dealing in dark sorcery would be over with.

But first, he had to get the misfit band of monster hunters to play ball.

He strode into his chambers, aware of James and Reinhardt watching him. Judging by the two men’s faces, they knew exactly why they’d been summoned. He gave no preamble.

            “I need help. A monster has been sighted around Bren, and I’m concerned it will find its way here. Dou you know anything about it?”

            “Moves fast as quicksilver,” the halfling said.

            “It’s a horse-like creature, which would have led me to believe it was a unicorn if they weren’t extinct,” James mentioned, frowning.

            “It roams the woods at night. Bren’s citizens seem to think that it’s linked with disappearances. Those who go after the beast don’t come back,” Reinhardt added with a grimace.

“Real or not, I don’t want it terrorizing my people. I’ve convinced the regent of the town to let me go after it.” He picked up a scroll on his desk. “This letter will give you permission to go anywhere and talk to anyone you might think knows anything, on the condition you make no trouble and leave the witch that lives in those woods alone.”

James eyed the letter like it was a live viper. “ This creature is dangerous. Why should we risk ourselves where others have failed? And why hasn’t the regent bothered with this until now?”

“The animal doesn’t enter town, so the regent doesn’t bother with it. I figured if you went together, you might stand a better chance than a single hunter. I can reward you well if you manage to kill it, starting with money and a public pardon for the thief there.”

“Pardon?” Reinhardt protested. “I thought you had pardoned her.”

“I have, but my citizens are less forgiving. A gesture like that will go a long way towards winning my peoples’ favor. I may also be able to offer you steady work, if that’s what you want. Living on the road can’t be easy.”

Reinhardt grunted. “It’s not.”

“Do this for me and I’ll see you return as heroes.”

“And what if this creature is a pet or familiar  of this witch? What if there are enchantments protecting it?”

“I can go!” Lena offered. “I’ll be able to tell. You know ‘ow you’re always leavin’ me behind on these things? I can help out this time.”

James’ scowl became a glower. “Yes, she can sense magic. But detangle enchantments? No. I want her out of this if possible.”

“I’ll leave that decision up to you, but she can’t stay here while you’re away, unless she wants to spend more time in the dungeon.”

“Don’t leave me ‘ere, James. Please. I’m old enough I can go with you.” Lena stared up at the ranger, who was pointedly ignoring her.

“Still doesn’t fix the issue.” Reinhardt said.

 “I’ll send my mage along to help, but I’d prefer not to spare him until after I get a better understanding of the situation. I’m asking you three to gather as much information as possible about this beast and report back to me with either news that it’s dead or details that might change the situation regarding its presence. Can you do this for me?”

            James reluctantly took the scroll. “We can.”

“Thank you. I gave Gabriel instructions to meet you at one of the inns or taverns when he’s finished with his errand. He may be able to help you, but I ask you keep an eye on him. He’s been acting strangely of late.”

James scowled, clearly not enjoying the idea. “If he’s possessed by madness, I want no part in watching him. I’m not his keeper, and neither are Lena or Reinhardt.”

“I’ll not have you slandering him like that. He’s just been reclusive. I worry that the witch he saw cast a spell on him.”

“Lena went to her, and she came back fine,” James pointed out.

“Do you know what sort of things the witch would need to bind someone?”

“She was curious about names. I don’t know anything else.”

Jack frowned. “Lena, if he’s under any spells, would you be able to sense such a thing?”

She frowned in thought. “I s’pose, though I don’t know if I could pick out spells, exactly. No ‘arm in trying though.”

“Do it if you can. I’ll ask my court mage to do a little research and see what he can find. You had better ready yourselves. I would like you to depart by morning.” He stood. “Godspeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, guess who watched Frozen 2? So yes, ALL the references to F2 will be present.
> 
> On the upside, "All Is Found" proved to be excellent inspiration for Reyes' character arc. (This is not beta-read, so there may be mistakes I've already identified a major continuity issue with Lena's story I will fix at a later date.)   
> Hope you all enjoyed. :)

**Author's Note:**

> How Magic Works in this AU: Magic in this AU is typically tied to either light magic (The Aurora)  or dark magic (The Umbra), their power stemming from the sun or the moon, respectively. Each side has different skills and abilities tied to it in regards to both the physical and metaphysical. The practice and use of dark magic is strictly policed and prosecuted. 
> 
> Magical abilities may remain latent for many years depending on an individual's training and strength in the arcane, and even within the magical "poles", an individual's skill may vary. Healing magic can be practiced by an individual aligned with either pole, but is more difficult among dark magic users, who may require more arcane foci to complete a healing spell than a light magic user.
> 
> A rare few individuals can wield both kinds of magic, but these are often few and far between, and their skills may exact a great toll on the user or come at a great price. 
> 
> Some magical creatures exist in this AU and may be affected by magic, though to a lesser extent than humans. 
> 
> A/N: I've been noodling around this idea for quite some time and thought, given the recent support from my lovely readers (thank you!) that they might like to see something a bit different. I may or may not finish this based on how much attention this gets/ how motivated I am to finish. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy what's here and what is soon to be published.
> 
> (Also please note this is my first time writing something like this. I welcome criticism, but please keep it constructive and relatively gentle. And of course, thank you for your support!)


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